be the breath I can't hold in
sit in the palm of my hand
and sleep on the skin of broken hearts
it's just our sickened prophecy
to listen to it all move on
and talk to daisies dying slowly
as if we would understand
as their petals leave them naked
it's just our sickened prophecy
and we can't see why they write it so
with all our electronic books
and voices wired to our brains
to tell us the things we already knew
and read us stories we memorized long ago
it never mattered more than now
but it's our sickened prophecy
and we're running, running
heavy on the strings that lift us at our elbows
we were never enough
it's just our sickened prophecy...